


keeping count

by Ser_Renity



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Grimmjow POV, Grimmjow is bad with feelings exhibit A, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Second Person, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5283407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ser_Renity/pseuds/Ser_Renity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you think fish can cry underwater?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	keeping count

 

* * *

 

“Do you think fish can cry underwater?”

  
It is one of those moments you heard about but couldn’t imagine actually happening to you, in the real world, in actuality. An idea so ludicrous it seemed silly just considering it.

  
You open your eyes and stare at the ceiling as if it could give you the answer to a question you never asked.

  
Unlike your usual temper you decide to opt for patience.

  
“I don’t think so,” you say and your voice is heavy with sleep. It is a luxury you have come to enjoy immensely; sleeping whenever you want knowing you would wake up in a safe place.

  
Las Noches has not been kind to you and neither has Hueco Mundo. Rough sand against your skin never made for a good pillow.

  
But here it is different; here you are surrounded by soft blankets and warmth and the one who allowed you in here in the first place.

  
“Well the saying does tell people to cry a river, so maybe the fish took that literally,” Ichigo slurs and throws an arm across your chest.

  
A smile creeps on your face before you can stop it. It is a slow process and one you had to learn after all these years.

 

* * *

 

 

“I can smile, thank you very much,” you told him ages ago when he was still Kurosaki and his presence another luxury.

  
“No, you grin. And smirk,” he replied and laughed as you scowled at him, “And you do that, which is probably the furthest from smiling a person can get.”

  
“What does it matter to you?”

  
“It matters because it means you aren’t happy,” Kurosaki said and then he smiled.

  
You wanted to die and punch his expression right off his face at the same time. It was a strange feeling and you had not quite gotten used to it.

  
This fond smile was one he rarely used directed at you, but you had seen it before. When he saw right through your false reason for helping him. When he realized you had won and would both make it out to fight another day.

  
“Fuck off,” you said and it was a strange call to make. Even if you had wanted to say something else, something more emotional and suited as an answer you couldn’t have given him what he wanted. It had never been the way you were wired.

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t think that saying was designed with fish in mind,” you say and curl up even more beneath the blanket. He never makes fun of the way you sleep even if you can see he wants to; like a cat, rolled into a ball with your face buried and your spine round.

Ichigo traces his fingers down your back sometimes, vertebrae by vertebrae until you stop overthinking matters. He knows you tend to do it without ever having to ask. After all it isn’t like you could tell him anyway; you are not capable of explaining it like that or voicing your thoughts in a way he can understand. Clumsy, maybe, even if you move with grace.

  
“So like, do they even have tear glands?” Ichigo continues and nuzzles the back of your hand that is placed on the pillow.

  
“I don’t think they do,” you mumble and try to forget that it is currently the middle of the night and you can see the bright red 3 flashing at you from the nightstand.

  
The sinking feeling in your gut intensifies and you wonder if the pain of having a hole punched into your abdomen finally set in. Ichigo’s hand rests above the hollow circle sometimes as if he could take some of the void and make it his. Or perhaps he knows that the feeling of emptiness never truly leaves, not even if you try to fill it with anger and excitement.

  
“I’m gonna be a doctor,” Ichigo whispers into the crook of your neck as he shifts closer, “Figure I should know this. I mean, what if I gotta operate on a fish? What if it cries?”

  
You sigh and roll your eyes. Patience is a virtue but it is also something you don’t possess in abundance. Even if he calms your anger he is not exempt from being assaulted by it if he annoys you.

  
“You won’t operate on fish,” you reply and press your palms against your eyes as you roll on your back, “Now sleep, okay? No more crying things, for fuck’s sake.”

  
Ichigo reaches out without a word and takes your fingers in his, pulls them down against the mattress, uncurls them slowly. It is something he does with practiced ease and the claws marks on your palms are proof of that. It isn’t always easy to keep yourself in check.

  
Then he shuffles closer until his forehead rests against yours. Breaths mingle and he produces a soft noise, something quiet and pleased.

  
“’kay,” he mumbles and ruffles your hair, “Gonna ignore them. Let ‘em cry, I don’t give a fuck.”

  
His fingers in your hair are something you never get enough of; it is not in your nature to ask for it. But he knows, has always knows. Occasionally you start to feel inadequate for he will remain a mystery to you forever. Kindness, compassion, gratitude. Words in a language you do not yet speak well.

  
Silence envelops the two of you and allow yourself to enter the state of carefreeness you find in dreaming. Just for another warm while, another comfortable moment. It feels like you are sinking again, yet this is different from the uneasy feeling in your stomach. This feels like being dragged into sleep, like a mechanism within yourself designed to keep you safe. You breathe in, breathe out even deeper.

  
Everything slows down, second by second and heartbeat by heartbeat. Close, so close to-

  
“But what if they have emotions?” Ichigo whispers loudly and full of panic, “What if they want to cry but can’t? The fish, Grimmjow, they are-”

  
“Oh my fucking god,” you hiss and sit up, “Shut the fuck up before I shove this goddamn pillow down your throat.”

  
Ichigo seems fully awake now and follows your example until you are on eye-level.

  
“You’re telling me to shut up?” he asks and sounds offended.

  
“Hell yes I am! Shut it already.”

  
His eyes narrow and a sly smile creeps onto his face.

  
“Make me,” he answers.

  
It is one of those sentences you heard and say so often it seems out of place by now; as if the concept lost its meaning somewhere along the way and you only drag its carcass along for the heck of it.

  
”It’s 3am,” you say and the patience you force yourself to have is fickle and fake, “Just go the fuck to sleep.”

  
“Make me,” Ichigo repeats.

  
That’s all it takes for you to snap. Brittle patience broken in half.

  
“You bastard,” you snarl as you topple him over the edge of the bed. It barely hurts as you hit the ground and it is definitely nothing compared to what you have experienced before.

  
“Oh, I didn’t think you’d get angry about fish,” Ichigo says and grins, his eyes glazed over by sleepiness, “You’re so easy to tease.”

  
“I’m gonna punch that smug look off your face, you piece of shit,” you tell him and prepare to make good on your promise.

  
However, Ichigo uses the movement to his advantage and throws you off. The edge of the bed frame hits your temple, but you don’t hesitate even if you feel dizzy.

  
“You afraid of me, Kurosaki?” you ask and grin, “Not ready for a fight?”

  
Ichigo stares at you from the ground, clad in shorts and an oversized shirt. He looks at you with that fond expression he reserves for you, the one you used to confuse with pity. It sends your heart into a frenzy, but it isn’t like that ever stopped you from kicking his ass.

 

* * *

 

 

“I wanna collect my fight now,” you said and grinned wider than it should be possible. Your lips hurt with the strain and you liked every second of it. A promise of a battle never failed to exhilarate you deeply.

  
Kurosaki rolled his eyes.

  
“You never learn, huh?” he asked.

  
After a moment of silence he sighed, realizing you would not take no for an answer. It was time to end it and you were sure both of you were aware of that.

  
“Gonna tear you apart,” you laughed and licked your lips, “Gonna rip off all your limbs for pitying me, Kurosaki.”

  
He smiled again, an expression you didn’t see directed at you very often. Not like this. It sufficed to make you hesitate.

  
In the end you couldn’t make good on your promises.

  
Kurosaki won again and offered you a hand. There it was, that toxic smile and all its repercussions.

  
Back then you slapped his hand aside and walked away. It would take you three more times to accept his help. Twenty more to return the smile for the very first time.

 

* * *

 

 

“C’mon,” you whine sixty-three challenges later, “Don’t be like that.”

  
The window stays closed and you try to avoid punching a hole through the glass.

  
“I’m gonna listen to your talks about fish if you let me in again,” you try once more.

  
No response.

  
You exhale a tired breath and rest your forehead against the cold surface of the widow frame. With your dead body it is difficult to be affected by the cold, but in moments like these you swear you can feel it acutely.

  
“Kurosaki,” you mutter, “Come on, it’s not like I actually broke anything.”  
Still nothing.

  
“Ichigo,” you say, “I want to fucking sleep. You’re not even mad at me, I can hear you laughing, you dipshit.”

  
The window slides open and you roll your eyes as he pulls you back inside.

  
Typical.

 

* * *

 


End file.
